


Take It

by LeoOtherLands



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, Begging, Camaraderie, Death, Drunk Sex, M/M, Modern Era, NSFW, Public Sex, Sadness, Shisulta Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoOtherLands/pseuds/LeoOtherLands
Summary: Itachi has a job to do, and takes comfort in the affections of a fellow wonder.





	Take It

**Author's Note:**

> I had limited time to write this, but I desperately wanted to do something for Shisulta week. So, I wrote this hurriedly, in the space of one night. Please forgive its crudeness. I feel there is a larger story behind this piece. My mind has the image of a very wrecked society, where much of the youth is wondering, homeless, while the adults live in wealth. I don't know the whole story, but this night stands in my mind as a point of convergence between the separate stories of Itachi and Shisui. They both take variant paths to this meeting, and what Itachi does after leaving Shisui, serves as a kind of crux, that changes things drastically. How and why, I don't know. Maybe I'll take a crack at writing that longer story someday, but at this moment, I don't have the time.

My fingers trembled just slightly on the shot glass. Just a little shiver of pale, slender digits, incrusted with dirt to the point the minute and intricate lines and patterns in my skin showed in whirls of grim. I could read my own palms or fingerprints, if I wanted to.

I didn’t have a care for that, though. The cheap whiskey went down like liquid fire and sat in my empty stomach like magma. Burning outward to suffuse my limbs and rise to my head. It didn’t matter if the liquor was cheap, only that it worked.

“Another,” I said softly, dropping a rumpled, ripped bill on the bar. Then I let my head sink to the tacky wood and rest there. The place I found myself was as besmudged as my hands and face. Gritty in the repellent sense. The tiles on the floor were buckling and stuck to the heels of my black boots with years old muck and spilled drinks. The windows were opaque, smoked over. The light was dim and laced with thick shadows, the way the heavy air was laced with the scent of sweat and smoke and piss.

A dive. But more than a dive. The kind of place that did not care I was sorely underage, and hadn’t even bothered with a fake ID. The burly man behind the bar only took my money, refilled my shot glass, and slid it back toward my hand, sloshing some over my fingers in the process.

I made no protest, just turned my head to the side and watched the alcohol glisten on my delicate digits. The hand would be sticky with the liquid later, but it didn’t matter. All I could think of were the words Tobi had said to me hours before.

_“You do want to protect your brother, don’t you, Itachi?”_

Sasuke had been laying in my lap, asleep. His heart fluttering like the wings of a bird against my thighs and his breathing hot and moist on my stomach. I’d raised a dirty, trembling hand to his ragged hair and said yes. Protecting Sasuke had been my main want all along. If it meant going along with Tobi to reach that end, I could take it.

Sluggishly, I raised my hand and licked the whiskey off my fingers, one by one. Then I just stared at them a moment. Each was marked. A scar here, a scratch there. A bruised knuckle, some torn skin. My hands were slender, but they’d seen a thing or two since Sasuke and I had left home, par force.

Shifting the long, thick fall of my ponytail trailing over one shoulder, I sat upright and downed the last drink I intended to have. Soap-scrummed glass wavering in my shaking hand, eyes closed, face raised to the smoke-blackened, patterned wood ceiling tiles.

Another runnel of fire down my throat, to my gut, and it was down. I was as drink as I’d ever been. Drunk and harmless. A kid in a filthy, black and red hoodie. Nothing anyone should worry about.

My eyes opened and my head angled down, and there he was. A cute little rogue, just like me. All grit and road dirt, head to toe. His short, dark hair was a greasy mess, and both cheeks were smudged with something. His clothes were mitch-matched and either thread bare or too large. And his dark eyes looked right into me. Down passed my intentional drunkenness, to the hollow core beneath.

I licked my lips, the tremble in my hands spread outward through my body, and I tripped down off my stool. My thick-soled boots felt heavy and clumsy on my feet, but I caught myself, looked back over my shoulder at the other boy, with a haughty tilt of my chin, and sauntered off, toward the door with the crooked MEN’S sign tacked on its pocked and scratched surface.

When the door slammed to behind me, I pulled up short, swaying a little. The room was a single occupancy arrangement with a toilet, a long faux-stone counter with a wash bacon sunk in it, a cracked and marked mirror, and black and white, octagon tiles spreading under my feet. It stank of vomit and worse things, but this didn't affect me. I put a hand out to steady myself on the sink, and waited.

There hadn’t been any doubt in my mind he’d follow. Two road rogues in a bar. We spoke the same language without saying a word.

I didn’t even move when the door snapped shut behind him, and he locked it with a flippant twist of his hand. _Good. It’s good._ More than the drink, this was what I wanted. Someone who_ knew_ it.

“You’re a cocky one, aren't you?” he asked, coming up behind me, and smelling my hair, nose to the place above the nape of my neck, where I tied my tresses back.

The play would be nice, I thought. I hadn’t done this in some time, and he was closer to my age then most. Perhaps an eighteen to my sixteen. I liked him, I realized blandly.

“I’m a brat,” I said, turning my head, just a bit, to see him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He smiled. Something real in all that glamour. But, smile or not, look of liking in his eyes or not, he didn’t break the game. “Going to make you beg, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Then I was gasping. He gripped my thick gathering of hair and twisted me around to slam into the counter’s edge. My hands braced there, palms flat on the fake stone, shaking, while I panted. Heat flashed and bloomed and died in my face and down below my naval.

“What do you want?” he asked in my ear, tugging at my hair. His other hand rode my hip, while his own, thin hips ground into my ass. There was a pleasant bulge in his pants, and it rubbed up against my crack.

“Your cock.” This came out breathy, but it was true. I felt I could die for that, in the moment. Something to make me forget for a while…

He huffed a laugh in my ear and bent in to lick slow at my neck, until he could nip at my earlobe and roll it over his tongue. Considering when I’d bathed last, I couldn’t imagine I tasted well, but his little sounds of pleasure made it seem like I did.

The hot sensations made my shaking worse, and I could feel myself getting hard. “Please,” I rasped, my fingers clawing at the smooth surface.

“Please?” A kiss and a little bite to my neck. A hickey sucked further down, near my collar bone, until I thought I would scream.

“Do me!” I squirmed. “Do me hard!”

A grunt. The hand wrapped around my hair tightened, and my face was slammed to the smeared counter. “That how you want it.” A hand fumbled at my belt and fly, to reach in and stroke me.

I groaned, bucking back into him, but I had little room to move with him pressing on me. “Yes! Please!”

In response to my willing pleas, he pushed my pants all the way down and palmed my ass. Hot hand on cool flesh. I stopped moving and started breathing, sucking in air, while my mind drifted. Another rogue was a comforting thing.

As if sensing it, he bent over me further and claimed my lips, while his free hand undid his own pants. Our tongues met and tangled in a collision of whiskey and gin, but, damn, he tasted nice underneath it.

Then his fingers were nudging at my entrance, squirming to press in and stretch me out. I cried out, but it was more at the sudden _need_ then discomfort. I _needed_ this.

“Please, please, please, please!” It was mindless babble. My partner appeared to enjoy it, though. He managed two fingers in me and swallowed my cries with his mouth.

“You want it?” he growled, when he let me go for air.

“Yes!” A gasp. Followed by, “Ahh, ahh!” because he’d found that spot, and was pushing on it. My back went stiff and my legs gave way. If he hadn’t been holding me there, I would have sprawled.

“You really are freaking pretty,” he murmured, kissing over my exposed face. “Going to give it to you. Going to give it to you so good.”

“Nah! Yes!”

He needed little encouragement. His hand was slicked with saliva, and this moistened his member. I was still tight, but held in my hiss when he penetrated me, and concentrated on taking him in. He was bigger, as well as older, but I’d had more than him. So, I just breathed and dug at the counter.

My fellow rogue took me at my initial word and did me hard. He ground into me, making me scream, then pounded me repeatedly, until my eyes leaked tears. Somewhere in it, he pulled my head up and pushed my face up against the clouded glass of the mirror, so we could see each other. So, I could see the spit dripping from my lips, from my shuddering breathes and the dark fire in his eyes. But I could take it. Could take _him_. I could hold it and absorb it all. Both the girth of him and the why of what I would do after this interlude.

I knew this for truth, and only panted while he rutted into me for what seemed a long time but was likely only minutes. Though I willed the moment to go on and on, I lost it shortly after his hand found my dick again. Face contorting, I screamed at the orgasm and sagged. But my partner wasn’t done.

“Alright, pretty bird,” he muttered, slowing his moves. “My turn to get what I want.”

“Yes,” I affirmed, sleepily. Drunkenly.

“Good.” A kiss to my ear. And he was pulling out, to my confusion. Pulling out and turning me, to sit on the counter with him between my thighs. All gentle, he nudged back into me, and slid his hands up under my shirt to feel my skin. “Going to be nice to you.”

Strange, so strange that. But I could take this, as well. I let my arms hang over his shoulders and opened my legs wide for him, giving him admittance to my most vulnerable parts without worry.

And it was a wonder. “Please,” I whispered, as he fucked me softly. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Kiss me.”

He did, with one of his hands on my face and his other between my legs. The second time, we came together, breathing gasps into each other’s mouths.

Then there was nothing left but pulling our pants back on and acknowledging each other with little nods. We walked out of the bathroom together and split up. No one even really cared, though there were a few snickers.

I sat at the bar a while longer, then wobbled my way out. My fellow rogue’s dark eyes following me out of sight.

It took me an hour to walk where I was going. No matter. A dirty rogue smelling of booze was ignored. Even in the private parking lot of a sparkly, glass tower. The man exiting the sleek, back limo never even spared me a glance, until I pulled the little, silver gun out of my hoodie pocket.

Walking the last few feet with the thing extended, I brought it to bare on the old, gnarled man, even as two quiet flits of sound came from behind me, and spikes of pain blossomed between my shoulder blades.

I smiled softly, as blood ran out of the corners of my lips and down my chin.

My grim-tattooed finger squeezed the trigger, putting a bullet between Danzō’s eyes before I felt myself crumble.

_I’m sorry, Sasuke_, I thought. _I won’t be coming back._

But, despite this wisp of regret, it was the face of the boy in the bar that was the last thing my mind pictured. The way he’d looked at me while we fucked. The way his dark eyes watched me on my stool before I had gone. The way he’d followed my progress to the door as I left…

As if… he was sorry I was leaving…

**Author's Note:**

> This salty ball of angst and glitter is an original fiction author and fan fiction writer, who literally lives for comments and reader interaction. Even if this is nothing but inarticulate vowel screams, lol. He exist on a flotilla of social media, separated into a wide array writery things.
> 
> If you are crazy enough to want to see what I'm writing on any given day, and maybe try tempting me into writing something specific, feel free to join me in my personal writing Discord [Midway](https://discord.gg/jsQw96p), or friend me on Discord at LeoOtherland#7066 if you would rather chat one on one.
> 
> On Facebook I can be located on my [author page](https://www.facebook.com/LeoOtherland/) for all things original fiction, or in the [AO3 Armada group](https://www.facebook.com/groups/601270063618951) for all things fan fiction.
> 
> On [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RoseOfOtherLand) or [Tumbler](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/leootherlands) I primarily run with the fan fiction crowd and I seldom post and/or tweet anything, but if you want to drop me a line, I am always up for a chat.


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